Aglarond
by Arahiril
Summary: Before his marriage, Faramir takes a trip to Rohan. While there, he spends some extra time in the Glittering Caves of Aglarond.
1. Lending a Helping Hand

Aglarond  
  
Summary: Sequel to "Midwinter" and "Midwinter in Rohan". Faramir takes that trip to Rohan he was planning on taking, and ends up in the Glittering Caves for a bit longer than he had expected.  
  
Disclaimer: Faramir the Wondrous is none of mine, nor is nothing else.  
  
Symbols: [Brackets] are thoughts. Asterisks are stressed words. A band of triplets (--- --- ---) means a break.  
  
A special thanks to everyone who (1) inspired me with the idea, and (2) encouraged me to write this. Namely, everyone who told me to write a sequel.  
  
As for the geography of and around Helm's Deep, I tried looking in my "Atlas of Middle-Earth" book (thanks again Emera!!) but I couldn't figure out exactly what was around it. There was, however, an exact layout of the keep and the caves. 'Twas my inspiration.  
  
I'm really sorry for the inordinate amount of time it took me to write this. I've been through midterms, four Ovid poems, and at least seven history chapters to get to this point, and I consider it a miracle that I managed to produce this. grin I don't think it's very good, but I tried my darndest. Please review!!  
  
Chapter 1: Lending a Helping Hand  
  
"Faramir, are you sure that we were supposed to come to Helm's Deep?" Beregond asked doubtfully, as they rode up the stone walkway.  
  
"I'm positive. Eowyn wrote and told me that she would be at Helm's Deep, not Edoras. Trust me," Faramir replied. "And besides, what's the worst that can happen? We'll just ride to Edoras."  
  
"I don't think my body could take another day of riding," Beregond said, rubbing his back.  
  
Faramir laughed. "You just have to get used to it," he said. He patted Sigeberht's neck fondly. He heard Beregond sigh heavily, which started another fit of laughter. [I'm practically giddy,] he thought, quite pleased at the fact. He and Beregond were so in depth into their conversation that he hardly noticed they had passed through the gates of Helm's Deep. Dismounting, they found themselves surrounded by a group of men working on repairing damage to the stone walls.  
  
"Where should we go now, Faramir? You'd think someone would be here to welcome you." Beregond's face looked doubtful again.  
  
"Not necessarily. They look quite busy. And the Rohirrim are not as formal as the Gondorians." He looked around. "Why don't we ask that man over there?" he asked, pointing. "He looks as though he is in charge of these workers. Maybe he'd know." Faramir walked up to him. "Excuse me, sir, but –"  
  
"Where have you been? You're late!" the man growled.  
  
"Now look here –" Beregond started, but Faramir stopped him.  
  
"No, we were supposed to arrive today."  
  
"I know that! But you were supposed to be here earlier, much earlier. It's already past noon." The man tapped his foot impatiently.  
  
"No time was ever specified," Faramir said, obviously uncomfortable. [The last thing I want to do is upset anyone.]  
  
"Well, even though you're late, I'd best set you to work. Maybe you can make up the lost time."  
  
"Begging your pardon, sir, but I think you have the wrong –" Faramir said, realization finally beginning to dawn on him. [He must think we're someone else.]  
  
"Get to work, before I throw you out," the man interrupted. "Start stacking those barrels over there."  
  
"We're not –" Faramir tried again.  
  
"Do you want me to have the guard escort you out?" the man said, his voice rising.  
  
"No, but you're making a mistake –"  
  
"Then get to work!" Faramir took back the reigns of his horse, but the man quickly snatched them from him, and took Beregond's as well.  
  
Faramir began walking towards the barrels and motioned for Beregond to come. He began whispering. "Beregond – the last thing I want to do is cause any trouble. We might as well just do the work, and figure out where we are supposed to be later. I have no idea who that man is or who he thinks we are."  
  
"I think he's just a stonemason," Beregond said.  
  
"I know, but I really don't want to take any risks. Besides, we're not familiar in Rohan, and the last thing I want to do is make a bad impression."  
  
"I thought you said the last thing you wanted to do was cause any trouble." He grinned.  
  
"That too," Faramir laughed. "So I suppose we'd best start shifting these barrels," he said, as he removed his cloak.  
  
Beregond pointed to Faramir's tunic. "I told you that you shouldn't wear such simple clothes. No wonder the man couldn't recognize you. You should at least wear something that suits your station."  
  
"You know how much I hate sticking out in a crowd," Faramir puffed out as he worked.  
  
"Still – no one is able to recognize you in situations like these."  
  
"Good. That means I can be recognized only by those who already know me, and avoid being treated differently by those who don't."  
  
"Right now you're being treated as a worker," Beregond laughed.  
  
"Well," Faramir said, with mock indignation, "there are far worse things, you know."  
  
They worked mostly in silence for a while longer, until at last Beregond interrupted their work. "Faramir, how much longer are we going to do this? I think my back is going to break soon."  
  
"Mine too, Beregond," he grimaced, "but do you want to argue with the man, or should I?"  
  
"Good point," Beregond admitted. The sound of a horse's hoof beats echoed behind them. Faramir, being busy, paid no attention, until he felt someone staring at him.  
  
"Do I know you?" a familiar voice asked from behind.  
  
Faramir turned around and bowed low, and Beregond followed suit. "Eomer King."  
  
"Faramir? What are you doing here? Why are you working?" Eomer asked incredulously, as he dismounted.  
  
"I'm sorry, my Lord, but –" he cast a glance at Beregond, "we were mistaken for workers, and –"  
  
"Faramir, first of all, there is no need for formality. Secondly, why didn't you just explain to the supervisor?"  
  
"Well, we tried, but we were unsuccessful," he said a bit ruefully. "But it's no matter."  
  
At that moment, the same man from before walked over. "Are these men being troublesome, my Lord?" he asked of Eomer.  
  
"On the contrary, it is you who is being troublesome sir," Eomer replied, his eyes flashing.  
  
"You pardon, my Lord, but I do not understand –"  
  
"Do you know who these men are?" Eomer asked, pointing at Faramir and Beregond. Faramir lowered his eyes to the ground.  
  
"The workers from the outer walls sent to –"  
  
"No, they are the Steward of Gondor and the Captain of his Guard!"  
  
The man's face drained, as he managed to bow to Faramir and Beregond, and then to Eomer. "I beg your pardon, my lords, I did not know –" he gushed.  
  
"It's quite all right, honestly," Faramir said in an effort to diffuse the situation. "It's actually amusing, in its own way. No harm has been done."  
  
"I apologize again, my lords –"  
  
"We're not angry," he said, glancing at Eomer's face. "But if you'll excuse us, we would like to get to the Keep, so if you would be so kind as to tell us where our horses have been stabled –"  
  
"You are most gracious, my Lord Steward," the man said, bowing again. "Your horses were stabled over there," he said, pointing. "I can fetch them for you –"  
  
"Thank you, but we can do that ourselves," Faramir said. He began walking away, with Beregond at his side. Eomer caught up with the pair in a few moments.  
  
"You don't want him to be disciplined?" Eomer asked, leading Firefoot by the reins as he walked beside them.  
  
"Really, the man couldn't possibly have recognized us," Faramir said simply. "It was just a mistake – anyone could have done the same."  
  
"What say you, Captain Beregond?" The man slightly blushed. [I think that's the first time anyone has ever called him that,] Faramir thought as he hid a smile.  
  
"No," Beregond said, following his lead, though Faramir could tell he'd like to give the man a few choice words.  
  
"Well, that's good then," Eomer said. "He is, after all, the best of the stonemasons, and I don't want to alienate him. So Faramir – how was your trip?"  
  
"Slow. There had been so much rain that the road was muddy." Beregond fell back, allowing Eomer and Faramir to continue their conversation in private.  
  
"Yes, it has been raining a lot. But this is the rainy season here, so we expect it." Eomer paused. "Is there a time of year in Gondor that has much rain?"  
  
"Yes. Oftentimes in spring we get a lot of rain," Faramir replied. He retrieved his horse from the stables, and came out again to walk with Eomer.  
  
"Do you like the rain?" Eomer asked.  
  
"I don't know. It depends on what I'm doing, I suppose."  
  
"Same here," Eomer responded. Suddenly, Faramir broke out into laughter.  
  
"What is it?" Eomer asked.  
  
"I can't believe that the only thing we can talk about is whether or not we like rain." He smiled at Eomer.  
  
"I see your point."  
  
"So – are you making much progress on rebuilding? At least the workers seem to be dedicated," he said, looking around him.  
  
"Things are going well. We started working on small villages at first, because that's where most of the people live, so it's taken a while for us to begin work on the fortresses. Actually, we just started here last week. I had wanted to get an earlier start, but we never got around to it."  
  
"Better late than never," Faramir said.  
  
"I suppose," Eomer said doubtfully, "but we really haven't been able yet to assess the damages from the battle. The Orcs destroyed a lot of the stonework, especially around the Gate, and we really don't know how that has affected the foundation. The Orcs also exploded part of the wall, which made the rock more unsteady. And since we waited so long before beginning the repairs, there is a more likely chance of serious damage. Actually, those men whom you were working near are actually skilled at restoring stone."  
  
"How do you do that?" Faramir asked, intrigued.  
  
"Don't ask me," Eomer replied, as he shrugged his shoulders. "One of the workers tried to show me one day, and all I did was chip off even more stone." The pair laughed, and then walked in silence up through the fortress. "Welcome to Helm's Deep," he said, as they entered the upper courtyard. Faramir stood still for a moment, to take in his surroundings. In the middle of the courtyard stood an old statue, presumably of Helm Hammerhand himself. The green and white flag of Rohan was blowing in the stiff breeze. As he saw Sigeberht stabled, he turned around, and admired the far-reaching vista that could be had.  
  
"The view is remarkable," he said.  
  
"Yes. That is sometimes said to be one of the best landscapes in Rohan," Eomer said, pointing. "Shall we go in?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Eomer led him into the Keep. "Doubtless you're weary from the journey, but perhaps you'd like something to eat, and then you can go to your rooms." Faramir turned around, and noticed that Beregond has disappeared. "He's been shown to his own," Eomer said, reading his thoughts.  
  
Faramir nodded. "That would be fine, then."  
  
Suddenly, Eowyn entered the Hall. "My lords," she said, curtseying graciously at the two men.  
  
Faramir bowed politely. "My lady," he replied, though he did glance up at her somewhat nervously. 


	2. Eowyn

Disclaimer: Since Faramir is far above my own station tear, he is not mine, along with everything else.  
  
Thank you SOOOO much, Carrie S and Mercury Gray!! Yes, I'm sorry for taking so long, and I hope this lives up to your expectations. As to Faramir/Eowyn/Eomer, it seems to me that they would all be on their best behavior, trying their hardest to get along happily. And besides: Faramir doesn't have the highest self-esteem level, and he's used to dealing with people that may not show their affection for him. cough I really appreciate the reviews!!

ARG!! This is my first try at writing Faramir/Eowyn romance etc. Actually it's my first try at writing romance at all. I think it's quite dreadful, and therefore I would absolutely LOVE suggestions about how to go about this. I'm trying to use this chapter as more of a practice, so bear with me.

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Chapter Two: Eowyn  
  
Eomer gave a small smile. "I have some business to attend to, so if you'll excuse me..." His voice trailed off as he turned and left the room.  
  
Immediately Eowyn ran over to Faramir and threw her arms around his neck. "Faramir," she said, as she buried her head into his shoulder.  
  
Faramir rested his chin on her head. "My heart." He leaned down and kissed her.  
  
Eowyn pulled out of the embrace after a few moments. "I have missed you," she said softly. "I have suffered for lack of your company."  
  
Faramir smiled. "If you have, you still look radiant," he replied. [I have not seen her this well in a long time.]  
  
"Only because I was looking forward to your arrival," she said. "I have been thinking of nothing else for at least two weeks, ever since I heard you would be setting out soon."  
  
"I have been looking forward to this too," he said. "It seems like ages, and yet it also seems as though we've been together the whole time." Faramir knew he sounded silly, but he said it anyway, for lack of anything better.  
  
"Ever the philosopher," she laughed. "I will have to get used to you."  
  
"I hope it will not be too much of an inconvenience." [I hope.]  
  
"Never." They kissed again. "I am being selfish," Eowyn said eventually. "You must be hungry." She looked at him. "You seem so tired. Surely the ride couldn't have been that hard? I thought you were a better horseman than that."  
  
"I'm tired because I ended up stacking barrels near the Gate." Eowyn tilted her head to the side in puzzlement. As Faramir proceeded to tell her the story, she laughed merrily. "I only wish that Eomer had come sooner," he said, as he concluded his story.  
  
"You know, I can just imagine you trying to reason with a foul-tempered overseer," she giggled. "No wonder you couldn't convince the man. You're far too polite."  
  
Faramir laughed. "I wish you could have seen the look on his face when Eomer told him who we were! I don't think I've ever seen anyone so pale before."  
  
"I wish I had as well." She snapped her fingers suddenly. "I'm sorry, I forgot to get you something to eat."  
  
Faramir rose as well. "There's really no need. I could scrounge up something later. I'd rather spend the time with you."  
  
"Nonsense, I can tell that you're hungry." Faramir sighed in defeat, causing Eowyn to smile. "Why don't you come with me to the kitchens?"  
  
"Gladly. We do, after all, need to start making up for lost time."  
  
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---  
  
Faramir and Eowyn sat down at last in a quiet corner in the kitchens, laden with bread, cheese, and hot soup. "So," Eowyn asked, as they began their meal, "what delayed you in Minas Tirith? You said in your letter that something unplanned turned up. Nothing serious, I hope."  
  
Faramir paused for a moment. "No, just something that needed to be done. We placed a memorial in the gardens for my father and brother."  
  
Eowyn stretched a supportive hand across the table to rest on Faramir's. "An important delay, then. I am glad for it, even though I waited longer for your arrival."  
  
"Thank you. I'm relieved to hear you say that." Faramir smiled warmly. [At least she's not angry with me for being later than I expected. Not that she would be,] he corrected himself, [but I'm glad that she doesn't think me foolish.] He waved his hand. "Enough of me. How is the healing on this land? Eomer tells me that progress is good. No doubt that the success is due partially to your help."  
  
"Yes, although I have little to do with the actual repairs. I help more with resettling people, and ordering new homes to be built to replace those that were lost. Orcs had attacked the Westfold, as you know, when – Mundburg – was attacked." She began to stammer a little. "The people were in my charge, you see – I was left to care for them when the Riders left. But I did not. And they were defenseless."  
  
"Do not blame yourself, my heart," Faramir said, as he read her eyes. "You would not have been able to do anything from Dunharrow even if you had stayed. And you did your people a mightier service in your deeds at the Pelennor than if you had protected them against Orc raiders." [Do not fall back into your unhappiness.]  
  
"I tell myself that, and I'm beginning to believe it. But every time I see another family's home that has been destroyed, I can't help but think that I could have done something."  
  
Faramir gazed at her intently. "No guilt should be yours," he said. "But even still, if you had not killed the Witch-King, then we might not have won the battle, and there would have been no Rohan for you to defend."  
  
Eowyn thought on this for a moment. "Yes, you are right," she said slowly. "And if I had not gone, I would never have met you."  
  
Faramir smiled. "And then where would you be?" he teased.  
  
"In quite a desperate situation, my lord," she responded with a laugh.  
  
He gave a sigh of relief, glad that their conversation had changed to a happier direction. Faramir took the opportunity to ask the question that had been plaguing him the whole journey. "Did Eomer give you the gifts for Midwinter?"  
  
"Yes, he did. And the letter."  
  
"Did you open them?" [More importantly, did you like them?] Anxiety crossed his face.  
  
"Yes, I did, Faramir. And I can only say that I could not believe how perfect your gifts were. The headpiece is absolutely beautiful. And your portrait of Theoden was –" She stopped, at a loss for words, and looked down at the table.  
  
"I am glad, then." Faramir gave a broad smile. "I was hoping you would. Did you hang it yet?" he asked, eager to know that she wasn't just telling him she liked it to make him feel better.  
  
Eowyn looked up again. "It is hanging at Edoras, until we move to Ithilien, and then I would like it to hang in a place of honour, where everyone can see it."  
  
"Wherever you want it." [Then she does like it.]  
  
"And now I must give you your gift." Eowyn grinned. "Shall we go?" She stood up. Faramir followed suit, gathering the empty dishes. Eowyn picked up the remaining bowls, and helped him carry them back to the washing area.  
  
"I have to ask –" Faramir gave a guilty smile "– did Eomer read my letter?"  
  
"He did indeed." They laughed. [I had a feeling he would.] "Although I made him promise that he wouldn't do something like that again."  
  
"That is good. I think, next time, I will want to write something a little more personal."  
  
"I hope so." She took Faramir's hand in her own. "Come. I want to give you your gift." Leading him back to the Great Hall, they continued their conversation. Faramir knew that there were still some – issues – that still needed to be settled concerning their living arrangements, and as much as he really did not want to think about it right now, he knew it was only right for her to know. A lull in the conversation provided him with the opportunity.  
  
"Eowyn?" he started. "There was something else that delayed my coming here."  
  
"Oh?" she asked, tilting her head to one side, as was her way when she was puzzled by something.  
  
"Yes. You see," he bit his lower lip slightly. "King Elessar wishes us to live in the Steward's rooms when we are in Minas Tirith."  
  
Eowyn looked confused. "But I thought – we had already agreed – that we wished to live in your normal rooms..."  
  
"I know," Faramir said.  
  
"And the arrangements have already been made..."  
  
"I know," Faramir repeated. He tried to explain. "Aragorn thinks that since I am the Steward, I should live in those rooms. I said yes," he lied, not wishing to go into the whole matter. Despite all earnest efforts on both their parts, Faramir was still shy with Aragorn, and the events of the past few months had eaten away at his confidence. He understood Aragorn, just as Aragorn understood him, but it did not make things any easier. "I'm sorry."  
  
Eowyn raised an eyebrow. "I don't mind – I'm just rather surprised. You seemed so set on not living there..." One look at Faramir told her volumes. "Well," she said, with forced brightness, "we'll just have to redecorate."  
  
Faramir merely smiled his thanks to her, for not pressing the matter any further.  
  
Guiding him further from the Keep, they continued until they reached the stables. Once inside, Eowyn stopped. "Close your eyes," she ordered, and Faramir obeyed. Gently, she led him to Sigeberht's stall, and turned his body to face the proper direction. "Now you may open your eyes, Faramir."  
  
His gaze fell on a horse blanket, neatly folded and resting on a rack. He walked forward and rested his hand on it. "Eowyn, it's wonderful," Faramir said, gently touching the soft cloth, surprised at such a generous gift.  
  
"Here," Eowyn said, as she unfolded it. Faramir held one side, and she put the other side on the rack, leaving her hands free to explain the symbols. "The border is a traditional Rohirric design. At the rear is the White Tree, so that it will match in at least one way with the rest of the official blankets of Gondor. The leaves over the sides come from your official Captain of the Rangers tunic, which you said were also a symbol of Ithilien. So that will match your new station. And this shade of green can represent either Ithilien or Rohan, whichever suits your fancy." She beamed at Faramir.  
  
"Thank you, Eowyn, it is beautiful. I shall be proud to have Sigeberht wear it. It was so thoughtful –" Faramir stopped. [Each symbol holds meaning, and she knows it. She thought of this herself.] He smiled. [Gondor for my home, Rohan for hers, and Ithilien for ours.]  
  
"You said that yours was destroyed during the War. And the one you have," Eowyn said with a laugh, as she looked over at it, "is not suitable at all." Faramir smiled. "You are pleased, then. I can tell."  
  
"That I am. Thank you again." Faramir kissed her.  
  
"Faramir, are –" Eomer walked in suddenly. Faramir turned around quickly in surprise, as Eomer grinned. "I was going to ask if you were here, but I see that you are indeed." Faramir gave an embarrassed cough and found his boots suddenly interesting, as Eowyn blushed, and fingered with the edge of the blanket. Eomer laughed loudly. "I was wondering, Faramir, if you'd like to take a tour of the Glittering Caves with me. There's a group going down, and I thought you might be interested."  
  
[I'd rather stay with Eowyn,] he thought, as he looked over at her, [and the thought of going down to the caves is not appealing at all. But I don't want to offend Eomer.]  
  
"Faramir, go with Eomer," Eowyn said, making the decision for him. "It should be a new experience for you. I don't think you've ever been in a cave before. Well, a cave similar to those that you will see."  
  
"Right then, it's settled," Eomer said. "I'll meet you back in the Great Hall in a half-hour. And don't be late."  
  
"I'll try not to be," he said with a smile. [So I will go to the caves, then. Hopefully the tour will be short.]


	3. The Glittering Caves

Disclaimer: Faramir, etc. belong to Tolkien.

An especial thank you to Carrie S, Mercury Gray, and Emera (again) for their ultra-kind words. A wedding story? Hmmmm. And non-too-subtle foreshadowing, eh? Teehee.

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Chapter Three: The Glittering Caves  
  
Faramir met Eomer in the Great Hall, as promised. He was wrapped in his warm cloak, after learning from Eowyn that the caves were always cold and damp. "So, Faramir, are you ready?"  
  
Faramir looked around him. "Yes, but – I thought you said that there was a group coming."  
  
"I thought there was too. But Maelgwyn, Hengest, and Horsa are not coming, even though I thought they were. So it is just us."  
  
[So why are we still going then?] he found himself asking himself. "Is it safe enough, then, with only two people going?"  
  
Eomer laughed at Faramir's hesitation. "Many people go there all the time, Faramir. Nothing will go wrong, anyway. We'll be quite safe, I assure you. I stake my reputation on it."  
  
Faramir couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness though. [If I were you, I wouldn't stake my reputation on something that I can't control.] "Well, let's go then. I suppose I will just have to count your reputation as solid enough."  
  
"It's as solid as the rock," Eomer said with a laugh. "Here, follow me. There's a passage in the outer courtyard. Then we walk through Helm's Deep – the actual ravine between the fortress and the caves. At the end of the Deep is a doorway to Aglarond. The entrance leads to some passages downwards, until finally the caves begin."  
  
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---  
  
Eomer and Faramir took torches from the guards as Eomer led him down the passages into the caverns. Faramir was not comfortable at all. The air seemed so stifling, and at times he found it hard to breathe. It was colder, much colder than he had anticipated, despite Eowyn's warnings. But wrapping his cloak more tightly around himself only made him feel more close and uncomfortable, and so he endured the cold as best he could, as his breath became more and more visible. He glanced at Eomer, who seemed unaffected by the temperature, and by the closeness of the walls, as the passage became narrower and narrower.  
  
"Here we are, Faramir," Eomer said, pointing at a doorway chiseled out of the rock. "The entrance to Aglarond." Eomer walked through the threshold. Faramir took a deep breath and followed.  
  
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---  
  
Faramir could hardly believe his eyes. The very walls seemed to sparkle as they reflected the light of his torch, and for a time he forgot his discomfort. He took a step toward the wall, and ran his hand along the side of the cave, marveling at the crystals in the wall. "It's beautiful," Faramir said. "The very walls seem to glow."  
  
"They do indeed," Eomer agreed. "It's unlike anything else in Middle- Earth." Faramir nodded his assent. "You've never seen such crystals before, I'm sure."  
  
"Actually, I have," Faramir replied. "Did you know that Gimli cut a few rocks from the walls during his visit?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He gave me one for Midwinter. But it's more spectacular to see the entire walls covered with them."  
  
"It certainly is. I first came here when I was very young. I thought the caves must be the most beautiful place anywhere."  
  
"Do you still feel that way?"  
  
Eomer shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure. There are many places I have never been." He turned around to face Faramir. "Why don't I show you the largest cavern?"  
  
"I would love to see it. It must be magnificent."  
  
Eomer turned back towards the caves. "Watch your step – it gets much steeper, and the dampness makes the floor and walls slippery."  
  
"I will." [I shouldn't have a problem if I'm careful. Henneth Annun was the same, especially near the Window.] Faramir followed as Eomer led him further and further down. The air became even closer, and Faramir began to notice how unsteady some of the walls seemed to be. He tried to convince himself that it was just his imagination, but somehow he couldn't make himself believe it.  
  
"I think we're almost there," Eomer said, after they walked in silence for a while. "It should be just around that corner. . ."  
  
Faramir looked around the bend, and saw a huge cavern, with a high roof and sloping rock paths around a large lake. The cavern was well-lit, for torches lined the walls, allowing him to see completely the entire cave, all the way up to the ceiling. The torchlight danced on the walls, illuminating the crystals and showing the many side passages that connected to it.  
  
"Why are there so many torches here?" Faramir asked, his curiosity overcoming his awe.  
  
"This cavern is the main area for the women and children to stay when the fortress is attacked. We keep it illuminated always. Also, this is a good place to rest whenever someone comes down to the caves. Supplies are always stored here. All passages eventually lead back to here. That one -" Eomer pointed at a larger passage across the cavern "– leads to the mountains. That is the escape passage, if there is need for it."  
  
Faramir nodded. "I see. This one is the largest, you said?"  
  
"Yes. Would you like to grab a few things to eat and a flagon of water so that we can rest and eat something later?"  
  
"How long are we going to stay down here?" he asked, sounding more worried than he had wanted to. [I don't understand how he can be comfortable, even here, no matter how large the cavern is. There's no fresh air at all.]  
  
"I'm not sure, exactly. It depends on how much you want to see. But there's still a lot to cover – you haven't really seen any interesting rock formations yet. I don't think we'll be done here for much longer than three hours, but we might as well take something to eat, just in case."  
  
[Three hours?] Faramir's jaw dropped. [Three hours with no fresh air, in these tiny little caverns?] "I suppose we might as well take something then," he said, not letting any reluctance enter his voice. [I don't want him to be offended.]  
  
Eomer and Faramir walked over to the supplies, and took a flask each, along with some dried bread and fruits. "That should tide us over," Eomer said, as Faramir put his food in his scrip, and slung the flagon over his shoulder.  
  
"Are you not putting yours away?" Faramir asked.  
  
"No, I'll just carry mine," Eomer said, waving his hand. "Follow me. There is a passage that leads back under the Keep, and that is the one that is the most beautiful, in my opinion."  
  
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---  
  
They walked for a good two miles, as the passages became narrower, the air more musty, and Faramir more uncomfortable. He began to think that the walls were going to collapse at any moment. He kept telling himself that he was being foolish, but he was becoming so frightened that he could no longer enjoy the caves anymore. He wished desperately for fresh air, and kept hoping that Eomer would eventually turn back. But on they went, Eomer seemingly ignorant of his companion's unease.  
  
Suddenly, a large crash came from above, and the entire cave seemed to shake for a moment. Faramir leaned against one of the walls, breathing heavily. [Stay calm. It was nothing.]  
  
Eomer turned around. "I wonder what that was," he said, peering at the darkness. "It seemed to come from here. . ." Eomer walked under the area that the noise had come from. Another crash, louder than the first one, echoed through the caverns, and suddenly Faramir realized what was happening.  
  
He threw himself at Eomer, and felt himself hit the ground hard, as the ceiling collapsed around them.


	4. Trapped

Disclaimer: Faramir the Stupendous is not mine, etc.

A special thanks to reviewers!! You guys are great!! And particularly to Raksha the Demon: the key word you used is "large". Faramir answers a similar question later, so I'm just going to let him answer you. Teehee. :)  
  
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Chapter 4: Trapped  
  
Faramir braced himself against the rock collapsing from the ceiling in the tunnel, using his own body to protect Eomer's, but the impact never came. After the rocks had stopped falling, he lifted his head, not quite knowing what had happened. He did know, however, that he was alive, and even that he could not explain. [Why have we not been crushed?] Faramir moved to the side as Eomer struggled to sit up.  
  
"Eomer, are you all right?" He looked his companion straight in the eye, but he could not see any pain or haziness.  
  
"I'm fine. It's you I'm more worried about."  
  
Faramir shrugged. "I don't think there's anything wrong with me." He felt no pain, so he knew he was not wounded. But his thoughts were muddled. [How did we survive?] Faramir stood up, taking in his surroundings. The tunnel where Eomer had been standing a few moments before was completely filled with rock and debris. A large amount of dust was circling in the air, blocking his vision, and Faramir waved at it with his hand. Finally, the dust settled, and Faramir saw something that frightened him – the tunnel was completely blocked to them. In a panic, he whirled around, hoping against hope that the other direction would be different. "We are trapped."  
  
"We are trapped," Faramir repeated to himself for no real reason. "I can't believe we are trapped."  
  
Eomer looked worriedly around him. "There is no other way out. I thought that maybe another tunnel might have been opened during the collapse, but there isn't any."  
  
"Maybe we can dig ourselves out. We would probably be able to move most of the stones, and the cave-in is probably not that large, since we were so close and we weren't crushed." Faramir jumped up, and began to explore the rock wall with Eomer's torch, since he dropped his own during the collapse.  
  
"No!" Eomer stopped Faramir before he could pull away any of the rock. "If we did that, we would likely cause another collapse, one that would kill us this time. We can't do that."  
  
"What do we do then?" Faramir's desperation was mounting, and his voice sounded more hysterical than he would have wanted.  
  
"Wait for someone to find us." Eomer dropped to the ground and put his head in his hands. "I just hope we don't have to wait long."  
  
Faramir slumped to the ground beside him, saying nothing, but his thoughts were anything but silent. [It could take days, even weeks! We could starve before help comes! Or there could be another collapse! There must be something we can do!] He began to panic, as the full realization of their predicament came on him. [It is so small and cramped,] he thought, as he fidgeted uncomfortably. A thousand doubts flooded his mind, but foremost was the doubt of discovery. One question kept plaguing him, until at last he had to ask it. "Eomer, did you tell anyone exactly where in the Caves we were going to? Does anyone know exactly where we are?"  
  
Eomer soberly stared at him. "No." Faramir let out an involuntary sigh. "But there is still hope, Faramir." He looked at Eomer skeptically. "Everyone knows that the Glittering Caves are most spectacular here. Since we will not be returning, and this crash will certainly have echoed throughout the Keep, then I think they will assume we are here, since only something drastic would have prevented us from returning."  
  
Faramir nodded his head. "How could this have happened? Has there ever been a collapse before? The rock has been here for years..." He shuddered as he considered how long. [The longer they've been here, the more unsteady they must be.] Faramir looked at the cave around him. [The walls seem closer than they were before.] He shook the thought away.  
  
"No, there's never been a collapse. But the battle here – it must have weakened the foundations..."  
  
"I don't think so, Eomer – if these passages had been weakened by the battle, then they would have collapsed long ago." He forced himself to think the matter through, in a desperate attempt to occupy his mind with something to reason out. "Something must have caused this." He stood up, and began pacing back and forth, trying to ignore the loud echoes his boots made.  
  
"What does it matter? All we can know is that we are here, and most likely will be for a long time!" Eomer was beginning to become frustrated. "Personally I don't care why we're here! All I know is that I wish we weren't!"  
  
"I think that figuring out why the rocks have crashed is giving us, or at least me, a much-needed distraction from the fact that we are trapped for however long in a grimy, dank, cold, tiny cave underneath a fortress!" Faramir lost his temper for a moment, but he was immediately ashamed of it. "I'm sorry Eomer," he said quietly, as Eomer scowled and then looked away. "I shouldn't have lost my patience."  
  
"No need to apologize. I was no charmer myself." Eomer gave a wry smile. He paused, then looked guiltily back at Faramir. "So – how do you think we got here? You've gotten me interested now."  
  
Faramir smiled at his expression. "So you're interested now?" He forced himself to give a small laugh.  
  
"As you say, it's something else to think about."  
  
Faramir ran a hand through his hair. "Well," he said, as he thought. "It was the fortress, not the caverns, that sustained the real damage from the battle. The Orcs from Isengard, you once told me, blasted through the Deeping Wall and the Front Gate."  
  
"Yes, but what does that have to do with the caves?"  
  
Faramir's mind was thinking quickly now, as he continued his guesses. "There are so many men working on Helm's Deep right now. What if one of them made a wall collapse, or created some other disturbance? The vibrations might increase as they traveled further down, through all the chambers in the caves. We are now under the fortress, are we not?"  
  
"Yes, we are," Eomer said, beginning to understand Faramir's theory.  
  
"Well, you heard a crashing noise from above before the ceiling collapsed. I'm sure that was rock, and as it fell above us, it must have broken the ceiling, which would have been below it, and then –" Faramir didn't bother to finish his sentence, knowing that Eomer could guess the rest. The long sentence used most of Faramir's breath, and he found that he was having trouble regaining it, as the air did not seem to satisfy his lungs. [I hope we don't run out of air to breathe], he thought suddenly, and the idea of suffocating made him begin to panic again, causing even more shortness of breath. But he took control of his mind, and forced himself to focus on the shape of the pebble at his foot, for lack of anything better.  
  
"Faramir," Eomer said slowly. Faramir sensed the doubt and worry in his voice. [Why is he suddenly so worried? He was confident of our rescue only a few moments ago.] "If you are right, then the collapse must have been large." Faramir nodded his head, suddenly tired and apprehensive. "Then the wall of stone must also be large."  
  
Faramir sat upright. "You're right," he said. "It could spread for a mile, or even more."  
  
Eomer voiced the fear that rose in Faramir's heart. "If so, then they will never get us out."  
  
Faramir took a moment to digest this. [They will never get us out!] Panic again spread through him. [They must! They can't just leave us here to die!] "There must be something we can do!"  
  
"If you have any suggestions, Faramir, then please tell me," Eomer replied bitterly. "It is hopeless. We are trapped, and I do not think that we will get out."  
  
Faramir leaned back against the wall again, and drew his cloak closer around himself. [The walls are so close, so close. . . they are going to fall any moment, it seems.] He sighed heavily. [I wish I had never tried to reason it out. At least I could have had the happiness of thinking that there might be a chance.] Faramir moved his hands over the torch that lay on the ground beside him. [I wish it wasn't so cold and damp.]  
  
Eomer looked at the torch as well. "It will burn out in a few hours, so we had better enjoy it while we can." He moved his hands over the warm glow as well. "And there's no point in burning anything of ours to keep a fire going. Whatever we gained in heat and light would be minimal next to what we lost in warm cloaks."  
  
Faramir nodded numbly. As the pair sat in silence, Faramir began to notice small things – how loud his breath seemed, how small the cave was, how little light the torch gave off. He began to breathe more heavily, as he thought again and again about the possibility of another collapse. When he finally began to shiver, Eomer said something.  
  
"Faramir, are you sure that you are all right? I don't think I've ever seen you so pale before," Eomer said with a worried glance.  
  
"I'm just a little uncomfortable," Faramir said. [Very comfortable is more like it.] "And a bit tired."  
  
Eomer frowned slightly. "Actually, it was thoughtless of me to bring you down here now. You haven't really rested since you first came here."  
  
"That doesn't mean anything. I've gone for days without sleep at times."  
  
"Still," Eomer smiled faintly. "I think that maybe we should get some rest. We could take turns, and set a watch."  
  
"A watch? What for?"  
  
"We are both tired, I know, but if we both fall asleep then we might miss someone looking for us."  
  
"And what's the chances of that?" Now that Faramir knew there was no hope for rescue, he did not want to delude himself, or let anyone else delude him, into thinking otherwise.  
  
"Small as they are, I have hope. We aren't just common everyday workers, you know, even though you might pass for one." Eomer grinned, and Faramir found himself doing the same for no reason. "So why don't you fall asleep, and then I will wake you up in a while, and you can stay up while I rest?"  
  
"No, Eomer, you can rest first." [After all, he's probably more tired than I am.]  
  
"Faramir, I insist that you go to sleep. I know that I am not, which means that either you can sleep now, or sleep after I do. So unless you intend on keeping a very long vigil, I suggest you get some rest."  
  
Faramir sighed. "If you're sure," he said, finally realizing how very tired he was. He lay down, rested his head on his arm, and tried to wrap his cloak around himself. Almost immediately he began to sleep.


	5. Dreaming

Disclaimer: Faramir the Amazing, etc. are not mine.  
  
This chapter took me three weeks to write, if not more. You can blame it for the inordinate amount of time it took me to write this story as a whole. Well – part of it, anyway. It is rather choppy as a result, but we can all overlook that, can't we.

A special thanks to Emera for helping me figure out exactly how to have this conceivably happen.

Another thanks to all you reviewers out there!!

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Chapter Five: Dreaming  
  
Faramir stood as straight as he could. His father, his brother, everyone was counting on him to show that the youngest member of the House of Mardil was strong and brave. He had to show them. Stealing a glance over at his father, he saw how straight and stern he was, and stood even straighter. He watched as the citizens filed past the body lying atop the tomb, one by one, most with tears in their eyes. The people had loved Finduilas, he knew that at least. Today was the last day she would lie in state. Today was the last day he would ever see her.  
  
Eventually, when the long day of standing was over, the Steward's two little sons were taken back to their rooms. Faramir obediently let his nurse send him to bed, but he could not sleep. [Mother used to read to me when I couldn't sleep. I wish someone would read to me.] The boy climbed out of bed, and fetched himself a book. Sitting down on the bed, he tried to read, but he missed his mother's comforting arms around him, and her soft voice singing to him. Tears began to form in his eyes, but he stubbornly wiped his hand across his eyes. [Father told me not to cry. I will not cry.]  
  
But he missed his mother terribly, and eventually he let the tears flow freely. He reprimanded himself for it, but did not try to stop. [If only I could see her one more time...] An idea quickly formed in his mind, and he grasped onto it, unthinkingly. [I can go to see her before they close the tomb, and put her away forever.] He crept over to his chair, and pulled on the tunic he had been wearing that day, and a dark cloak. [At least no one should see me,] he thought, double-checking that he was clad completely in black. Then he silently tiptoed out of his room, past the guards, past everyone, and down to the 6th level.  
  
Faramir retraced his steps of earlier in the day back to the door to Fen Hollen, the Silent Street. The door was open. Before asking himself why, he made his plan of how to sneak past the Porter. Picking up a small rock, he tossed it a few feet away from him. The Porter walked over to where the rock lay. Using the opportunity, Faramir ran quietly behind him through the door. As soon as he was inside, he hid behind one of the pillars that lined the small passageway, and waited for the Porter to return. He did so soon, and Faramir held his breath while the man took his seat again, which faced away from the Silent Street and Faramir.  
  
The boy waited another minute, to make sure the man would not come inside, and then he began to dart behind the columns that lined the alleyway, one at a time. It seemed darker there than in the rest of the City, but Faramir had come with a purpose, and would not let his imagination frighten him away. Finally, the narrow passageway came to an end, and Faramir entered the Hallows of Rath Dinen. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that no one had followed him, and he sighed in relief.  
  
Faramir's confidence grew as he approached. Although shadows hung around him, haunting the solemn buildings lining the road, he plucked up his courage and walked steadily down the middle of the road. He thought back to earlier that day, and turned towards the last building on the left. Again, the door was open, and so Faramir walked in. Now his memory of the way was much less clear, and it was not soon before he was beginning to doubt his decision to come, as he stood debating in the vestibule. The tombs were shrouded in darkness, and Faramir's eyes adjusted quickly to the dark. It was then that he spied a light coming from one of the smaller hallways.  
  
[They must keep a light in there. That's probably where Mother is. I remember going that way too.] Faramir walked towards it, around a few bends, until he reached the room where it was coming from, the room that held his mother. Suddenly, Faramir felt as though he was not alone. He peeped cautiously around the corner, into the room, and saw his father standing beside the pale body of his mother. [Why is Father here?] he questioned, and fear of discovery was overridden by a desire to see what his father was doing.  
  
Faramir stared at the face of his motionless father, and Faramir saw that there were tears in the man's eyes, and that they continued to fall. He fought back the urge to run in and embrace his father, knowing that he would probably only anger him. Faramir's large eyes took in as much of the scene as he could – his father, holding a small nosegay of flowers, standing in vigil over his mother. It seemed to him to be unreal, and yet here was Denethor, who had never been seen to shed a tear, crying openly for his wife. [But he is not openly crying,] Faramir thought. [Father thinks he is alone.] Faramir felt a surge of guilt at intruding on the Steward. He backed away, thinking that he would leave his father. But suddenly Denethor leaned in over his wife, and said some quiet words, which Faramir couldn't hear. He then turned away from the tomb, and began walking towards his son.  
  
Fear overcame reason, and Faramir, in a desperate attempt to avoid his father's sight, quickly opened one of the doors that led to a tomb. Knowing that the doors only locked on the inside, he made sure to leave the door open a crack so that he could escape as soon as his father passed. But as the Steward walked by, he paused in front of the door that Faramir hid behind. The door had no opening or crack, and so Faramir could not see his father, but as he held his breath, he heard the door close. And he knew he was locked in. As much as Faramir wanted to call out to his father to let him out, he didn't want his father to ever know that he had snuck to the tomb. So he said nothing, in the hopes that he might be able to find a way out after his father left. Gradually, the echoes of Denethor's footsteps receded, and Faramir was left alone in the crypt.  
  
He tried to keep himself calm, as he tried to turn the doorknob. It did not move. Panic then overtook Faramir's mind. He tugged on the door handle as hard as he could, but it refused to budge. His heart began to beat even faster. Faramir began to shove the door with his hands, then his arms, and finally he threw himself at the door again and again, desperately praying that it would miraculously open and he would be set free. But his wish did not come true, leaving him with nothing but bruised arms and a broken spirit.  
  
Suddenly, another idea, no matter how unlikely, formed in his mind. The darkness inside the tomb was impenetrable, making it well nigh impossible for him to see beyond an arm's length, but he thought that there might be another passage out of the tomb. With this in mind, Faramir rested his hands against the wall and began to follow it along the circumference, keeping at least one hand against the wall to feel for an entrance. The stone was cold to the touch, and Faramir shivered inside his cloak. Still, he ran his hands along the wall. Suddenly, he felt an empty space, no wall for him to hold onto. Excited, he turned towards the empty air, feeling anxiously ahead of him. His hands, though, met with a solid stone wall.  
  
With a sigh and a sinking hope, Faramir lowered his hands to his sides. [How am I ever going to get out of here?] He paused in thought, considering the little alcove. [Maybe it is part of a door of some sort?] With this notion in mind, he felt again for the opening, finding it again quickly. Searching with his hands, he found the sides of the break in the wall, and ran his hands along one to find the bottom. His fingers rested on a small ledge about even with his waist. [Not a door, then,] he thought, whatever hope he had in him crashing. [Then what is it?] Reaching his hands in, he felt soft cloth. It seemed to be fine velvet, but it had been thinned with age. [With age.] A realization dawned on the boy. [This is a crypt. There must be – bodies – in here!] He gave a cry, and sprang back into the darkness. Losing his balance, he fell upon the cold, hard floor. With a small sob, he curled himself into a ball. [How am I going to get out of here?]  
  
Despair crept into his heart, but he fought it back down. [There just has to be a way out of here,] he tried to reason, but he could not think of another way. His eyes had adjusted to the dark as best as they ever would, and yet he could still not see past his outstretched arms. [I should at least try to find my way back to the door.] He stood up uncertainly, not quite sure of where the wall was anymore, since he had sprang away from it so quickly. Faramir took two steps in the direction from which he came, feeling for the wall, but his hands did not touch anything. He began to question himself. [I thought I came from this direction. But was the wall on the other side instead?] He turned in his tracks, and began to walk in the other way. [There must be a wall here somewhere.] His senses told him that the room was relatively small, no more than the size of his bedroom. But if so, then where was the wall? [Well, it must be here somewhere.] He chose a direction and walked with his hands in front of him. After a few steps he felt a solid wall again, and breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
This accomplished, Faramir tried to discover exactly where he was. He remembered turning right from the door, but choosing a direction from the middle of the room made him lose all sense of location. [If only it weren't so dark,] he thought. [I should have brought a light with me.] But he knew that these thoughts were not going to help, and so he contented himself with following the wall again.  
  
Faramir followed the wall again, until suddenly he felt his hands brush up against the cloth. He stifled a cry as his hands touched it again. [I will not be afraid. I will be brave like Boromir.] He paused for a moment, feeling a small draft against his neck. A moment later, it was gone. He glanced over his shoulder, but of course could see nothing. Faramir's eyes looked nervously into the black, but it was no use. He turned in the opposite direction, remembering that the door was to the left of the alcove, and followed the wall again. His hands, he thought, should have met with the door by now, but still he continued walking, not having felt anything but stone. Suddenly, the arm that had been leaning against the wall had no support and Faramir lurched to the side, falling onto the wall. His arm landed on something hard, covered in velvet. [But I already found the body,] he thought in confusion. His hand felt the shape, and realized that it was another corpse. This time, however, he remembered to keep to the wall in his retreat, and he took a few steps before sitting with his back against the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees.  
  
[I wish Mother was here,] he thought, and again tears began to trickle down his cheeks. [I don't want to stay in here. It's too dark – and quiet.] The sound of his heart seemed to echo loudly in the chamber, and the boy, accustomed to the large crowds of the court, found himself stifled by the unwavering silence. He sniffed slightly, and even that small sound magnified and bounced back to him. [I'm never going to get out of here.] He rested his head on his knees and began to cry.  
  
But in a few moments he sat straight up, tensed. [Was that not the sound of laughter?] He shivered involuntarily. [I could have sworn that it was. I know what I heard. But it cannot be.] His mind fought with his senses, but in the end, neither won, for although he was still sure of what he had heard, no other sound was made.  
  
After what seemed to be a few minutes, he heard the soft rustle of cloth. [It sounds like – velvet.] Unbidden fears flew into his mind. [It can't be...] Again, he heard the sound of moving cloth. But this time, he was certain.  
  
"Is anyone there?" he said, feeling suddenly afraid, more so than he had ever felt before. "Who's there?" His voice echoed loudly. He took a step forward, away from the wall, but stopped in his tracks, hearing the rustle again. "Who is there?" he repeated, but louder and with more fear this time. There came no reply. Faramir began to shiver. He felt a draft pass behind him again, and he whirled around, half-expecting to confront a dead man. But there was nothing that he could see.  
  
Again came the sound of laughter, but it was much more mournful this time, and it was closer. Faramir began to breathe more heavily, and his body began shaking in fear. His ears picked up the rustling again, as he walked forward. "Please, leave me alone, just leave me alone," he whispered, and he covered his ears and closed his eyes. He knelt on the ground, and bent himself over, so that his head nearly touched the ground, and rocked himself back and forth, trying to pretend that his mother's arms were still around him. He began to sing an old song that his mother had taught him, but still it could not calm him.  
  
When what seemed to him to be hours had passed, he tentatively lowered his hands and opened his eyes. But as he did so, Faramir heard the rustling again, and it seemed to him that he could hear faint whispers, but they were too quiet to understand. Choking back a sob, he stood up and ran away from where he was, but it seemed to him that the whispers came even closer. His body met with the wall, and he turned his back towards it to face the center of the room. The air seemed harder to breathe somehow, and his heart began to beat faster. Faramir tried to get away from the whispers, but it seemed as though he was only coming closer, as he ran along the length of the wall.  
  
As he ran, he felt the wooden beams of the door brush his arm, and stopped against its comforting presence. The whispers, now accompanied by that same rustling, had followed him there as well, and Faramir knelt again. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now, and he could not seem to catch his breath. In vain, he tugged again hopelessly on the door, but he already knew it would not open.  
  
Abruptly, all the sounds died as Faramir heard the distinct sound of heavy footfalls, coming slowly towards him. His breathing quickened again. There was no change of pace, no occasional soft tread, just the steady rhythm of heavy boots against stone. Panic seized the boy, and he began to pound again on the door. "Please, let me out, someone!" he cried, as the pace quickened, increasing to a run, until it had reached him. He leaned back on the door, when suddenly it gave way to his body, and he fell into a sobbing heap on the floor.  
  
Instantly he was gathered into someone's warm arms. His first thought was of his mother, but he remembered it was not so. But at the moment, he didn't particularly care who the person was, so long as they were protecting him. He continued to cry, first hysterically, but finally calming, until he reached a dull whimper. It was then that the embrace relaxed, and he was able to see the person.  
  
"Faramir," Denethor said with worry in his voice, "what has happened? Are you ill? How did you –?"  
  
"Father, I'm sorry..."  
  
"What for? What has happened? How did you end up here?" Denethor drew him back into his arms, and took a shaky breath. "Tell me – how came you here?"  
  
"Father, I'm so sorry," Faramir started brokenly, and he began to cry openly again. He could not forget his fears so easily – even now his heart was beating quickly. Denethor held him close, and hushed him only half- heartedly, letting his son cry his fill. Eventually the sobs became less common, and Faramir began to tell his tale. "I wanted to see Mother again, before you put her away."  
  
Denethor clasped his son tightly. "Go on, Faramir," he said simply.  
  
"I just found my way back here, but then I saw you standing next to Mother. I was going to go, but then you came towards me, and I thought – I thought you were going to be mad at me. So I hid myself in the room. But you closed the door and I couldn't get out."  
  
"Oh, Faramir, my little son," Denethor said with a slight sigh. "I am sorry. I didn't realize you were in there." He ran his hand through Faramir's hair, trying to straighten the now-tousled waves. "What an fright you must have had."  
  
"There's something in there, Father. I heard it."  
  
"There cannot be, Faramir, it was your fears taking over your reason."  
  
Faramir shook his head. "There is, I know there is. It almost was upon me, but then you opened the door and saved me." He clutched at Denethor.  
  
"Come, stand up," Denethor said, gently pulling Faramir to his feet. He took Faramir's smaller hand in his own, and took a step towards the door.  
  
"No," Faramir said, dragging his feet. "It will take me."  
  
Denethor took a torch from a nearby wall sconce. "No, it will not. I am here now. Nothing will ever harm you, whenever I can protect you."  
  
Holding the torch in front of him with one hand, and leading Faramir with the other, Denethor moved his way into the room. Faramir could see now that the room was larger than he had supposed, and that there was more than one alcove, explaining why he had been so confused. He peered into the dark, and saw that there was nothing lurking. "But there was something. I know there was, Father."  
  
"As I said before, Faramir, it was nothing." Denethor turned to leave.  
  
"But the bodies – they are dead, and yet they came alive!"  
  
"There are no corpses in this tomb, Faramir."  
  
"No, in the alcoves! There's a body in each – I felt the cloth."  
  
Denethor led a reluctant Faramir back into the sepulcher, pausing when he had reached one of the alcoves. "No, Faramir, look." He obeyed. "The stone effigies were covered with this velvet blanket, nothing more."  
  
"But all the noises! I heard rustling cloth, and I thought the body had come back to life –"  
  
"Faramir, you too are wearing velvet. You probably made the rustling noises yourself."  
  
"But what about the whispering and the laughter and the footsteps! I heard those too!"  
  
Denethor gave a weary smile. "Faramir, as soon as your nurse could not find you in your room, she sent a message to me straightaway. I thought that you might come here, and I have been looking for you in every passageway of the House of the Stewards. When I could not find you, I came back here. Everything echoes strangely in these stone halls, and normal sounds can be heard differently from what they are. What you heard was me searching for you."  
  
Faramir bowed his head, embarrassed. "I am sorry, Father. Forgive me."  
  
"I am not angry, Faramir. I was worried after you." He replaced the torch in the sconce. "Come. You wished to see your mother one more time, and you shall." Denethor led Faramir into the room with his mother, and together they stood, until Faramir began to sway with weariness. "Come, you should be getting back to sleep. You need your rest to be strong today."  
  
Faramir let Denethor carry him back to this room, and fell asleep with his father at his side.  
  
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---  
  
"Father," Faramir murmured, as he felt a gentle shaking to his shoulder. He moved slightly, and was prepared to sleep further, but the shaking became more persistent.  
  
"Faramir, wake up." Eomer's voice broke through his thoughts, and he sat up quickly. "I didn't mean to disturb you," he said apologetically, "but there is a slight problem."  
  
[How could things possibly get worse,] he thought to himself. Immediately he cursed himself for thinking it. [Thinking that is the surest way to invite disaster.] "What is it?"  
  
"The torch is going out, Faramir. Once it does –" Eomer left the thought unfinished. "We probably won't have it in three hours. I thought that you would wish to be awake."  
  
"Yes, thank you." Faramir's heart pounded. [The torch cannot go out. It cannot. It must not.] He noticed that Eomer was looking at him strangely, and wondered if he had spoken out in his sleep, or if there was something wrong with him. Either way, he was uncomfortable with the gaze. "Eomer, why don't you get some sleep now? I've had plenty, and it's only fair for you to rest."  
  
Eomer nodded. "All right, I will. But wake me up right before the torch goes out." He stretched his body out on the floor, wrapped in his own cloak. Faramir sat up, and leaned against the wall of the cave, trying to again ignore his own discomfort. He held his hands over the torch to keep warm, knowing that soon he would not be able to do so. Eomer's breathing soon indicated that he was fast asleep. Faramir wrapped his arms around his legs, rested his chin on his knees, and watched the dying torch.


	6. Passing the Time in Speech

Disclaimer: Faramir the Exceptional, etc. are not mine. As always.  
  
This chapter was another doozy to write, and though I'm not quite pleased with its finished product, I couldn't think of anything better. Please tell me what you think!!  
  
-------------------------------  
  
Chapter Six: Passing the Time in Speech  
  
Faramir lost all track of time. All he knew was that the torch was going out. The very thought made him quiver in fright. [As if it isn't dark enough already.] He could think of nothing but the torch, and his eyes could do nothing but stare at the dying flames. Time slipped by, as the circle of light thrown by the torch grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, Faramir knew it wouldn't be long now, and the thought terrified him. His hands began to shake, and his lungs seemed unable to take in the amount of air he needed. Still, he managed to get up and kneel beside Eomer.  
  
"Eomer, quickly! The torch!" He shook the man hard, perhaps more so than he had meant to, but it was effective at least. Eomer sprang up, and knelt down to examine the torch. It sputtered, and gave off almost no light now. Faramir knelt down beside him. "Isn't there anything we can do?" A hint of panic rose in his voice, but he forced it back down. The torch suddenly flickered, and went out. Faramir gave a sigh of relief as it came back just as quickly.  
  
"I think that it would be best if we sat up against the wall, so that when the torch goes out we will at least be assured of our surroundings." Faramir obediently moved over to a smoother part of the rock wall, next to the collapsed pile of boulders. Eomer followed him more slowly, trying to protect the torch as he carried it from even the minor drafts of air caused by walking. However, as he walked, the torch abruptly gave out, and did not come back. Faramir could not see anything, not even Eomer, who had only been a few steps away. His surroundings were coated in darkness, darker than anything that he had ever experienced before.  
  
Faramir began to panic. [This isn't happening – it will come back. It will come back.] Repeating the mantra to himself did not bring it back, however.  
  
"Faramir!" Eomer's urgent voice broke through his thoughts, and he pulled himself back to the present. "I cannot see you! Say something, so that I can find you!"  
  
Faramir did not quite know how to respond. "I am here. Walk in the same direction you had been before." His voice echoed off the cave walls, making it impossible for Eomer to track him.  
  
"I turned around when the torch went out. It startled me. I still can't find you."  
  
Standing up, Faramir locked his knees to keep them from shaking. He placed one hand on the wall, then reached the other out into the darkness, feeling for Eomer. "Reach for my hand," he said as clearly as he could. He heard a few tentative steps towards him, then felt Eomer bump into his hand.  
  
"Sorry," Eomer mumbled, as he put his own hand into Faramir's. Faramir led him back to the wall, and then let go, and dropped to the floor.  
  
"There's nothing to be sorry for," Faramir said, feeling absolutely miserable. "I just wish the torch had held out longer."  
  
"I wish it had too."  
  
Silence took over the cavern again, and Faramir began to panic more and more. He tried to control his breathing as best as he could, but it became more and more difficult for him to do so. The darkness made his fears multiply tenfold, and he was now certain that they were going to rot in this little cave. He kept his eyes closed tightly for what seemed to be a long time, trying to fool himself into thinking that it wasn't as dark as he knew it was. Finally he heard Eomer shift next to him, and he opened his eyes.  
  
"Faramir!" Eomer sounded excited, but since he couldn't see the man sitting next to him, he couldn't tell for sure. "Look! Is that not light?"  
  
Faramir lifted his eyes slowly, taking in the darkness. [It is still dark – nothing but blackness.] But as he scanned the area, praying that Eomer was correct, he did notice small cracks of light coming through the fallen rock wall. He slowly made his way over to the source of the light, and he realized that the light was coming from the other side of the cave. "The rocks do not go on for a mile at all! It must only be a few feet wide, in order to have fissures for the light to come through!"  
  
Eomer crept over to Faramir's side, and Faramir could almost sense the man's excitement. "Then there's still a good chance of being found! And here we are thinking that there is no hope! We should have known better." He began laughing, almost hysterically in his joy.  
  
Faramir just knelt there, next to the light, soaking it in, knowing that he was grinning like an idiot. But he didn't really care, so long as he could stay next to the light. [Besides, it is still dark enough so that Eomer couldn't see me anyway.] "Praise the Valar," he said. Not only was light coming through the holes, but also a tiny bit of fresh air as well, and Faramir gulped in what he could. It was barely enough to make him feel better, but his spirits were rising. He turned to look at Eomer, seeing no more than the dark shadow of his face, but this did not detract from his relief at even the small amount of light filtering through. "I think I'm going to just stay here, if you don't mind." He readjusted himself to sit with his back against the collapsed rocks, but his face was in the tiny draft.  
  
"You'll hear no complaints from me," Eomer said happily, doing the same. "It probably just took our eyes a while to adjust to the low light in here. So it's actually a good thing that the torch went out – we would have been sitting there not knowing how close we are to rescue."  
  
Faramir nodded, even though Eomer could barely see him doing so. "Yes, I suppose so," he said slowly, then went back to taking his deep breaths. Even though the new light and air helped, they did nothing to convince him that the rocks would not collapse on top of them. [Breathe. Just breathe.]  
  
Eomer's voice interrupted his concentration. "Faramir, are you all right? You're breathing so heavily."  
  
Faramir, ashamed of his fears, responded quickly. "I'm quite all right, thank you." He was glad that Eomer could not see his face, as he knew that it would give away his guilt. His voice gave away more than he had hoped it would, though, and Eomer's lack of a response convinced him that his companion knew that he was not all right.  
  
"Faramir, if something is wrong, I'd like you to tell me," Eomer prompted gently.  
  
"I'm fine, Eomer," Faramir responded, but again he knew that Eomer could tell he was lying. The novelty of air and light was lessening, and he was feeling worse and worse.  
  
"If you say what's bothering you, I'll tell you a secret in return," Eomer said. "An important one," he added, and Faramir could tell he was smiling.  
  
[Obviously he doesn't know what's bothering me at all. He must think that I'm worrying over whether or not Sigeberht has proper stabling, or some such nonsense.] "I'm sure that I'll survive without knowing it."  
  
"Fine, if you think Eowyn will ever forgive you for not knowing..." Eomer's voice trailed off, trying to bait him.  
  
Faramir couldn't help but laugh a little. "That is unfair," he replied.  
  
"Please, Faramir, tell me what's wrong."  
  
Faramir sighed. [I had hoped to avoid this. Goodness knows what he'll think of me now.] "Actually, it's that I've never been – comfortable – in caves, and other such places. They are too cramped and small. I lack for fresh air."  
  
Eomer's happiness seemed to disappear. "I'm sorry, Faramir – you should have said something, and then we wouldn't be here."  
  
"I didn't want to insult you." [Why do I always have such ridiculous excuses for everything?]  
  
"You worry about that too much, I think. But at least you said something now – that way we know to avoid caves in the future." Eomer gave what appeared to be a hopeful smile (the lack of light made it hard to tell), and Faramir reluctantly returned it. "Faramir?" Eomer began again.  
  
"I'm not answering anything until you tell me this 'secret' of yours." Since he had been coerced into saying something, he was determined to at least get his side of the bargain.  
  
"This is part of the same question about you," Eomer replied. "I'm not finished yet." He continued on despite Faramir's sigh. "How could you be comfortable in Henneth Annun then, if you are – uncomfortable – in small places? After all, that is a cave as well, or so I have heard."  
  
Faramir thought for a moment. "It isn't just the size. Henneth Annun has the Window on the West – there is a waterfall, and plenty of fresh air and light. There is never a silence there – silence makes everything seem smaller as well."  
  
"I see." Eomer paused.  
  
"I'm sorry if I –"  
  
"Please – I was the one who asked. I'm sorry about that."  
  
"I really don't mind." He sighed. [I wish things were going better.] "So – what is that piece of information that I cannot live without?"  
  
"Do you know Eowyn's favourite colour?"  
  
Faramir thought on this for a moment. [White, I suppose. She so often wears it. But I honestly don't know.] He felt rather foolish for not knowing, and even more so for admitting to her brother that he didn't. [I feel terrible for now knowing. How insensitive am I?] "White," he guessed, though he tried to keep the uncertainty out of his voice.  
  
He heard Eomer shake his head. "No – it's actually green."  
  
"Green?" he asked incredulously. [Certainly Eomer will approve of me now, knowing that I don't even know Eowyn's favourite colour,] he berated himself. [What kind of a respectable suitor am I?]  
  
"Yes. Everyone thinks that it is white, but it is not. Since Eowyn is called 'the White Lady', however, it is only fitting that she wear white. Or so she believes. Personally, I don't think anyone really cares that much." Eomer paused here for a moment, seemingly in thought.  
  
Taking the few moments to absorb this, Faramir felt absolutely horrible. [What a fool I am. She has always followed her duty.] "I see," he said slowly. Confusion spread through his mind, and he ventured a question. "So why is she called the White Lady, then?"  
  
"I don't honestly know. Perhaps it is because she is so pale, though I must say that after the Shadow lifted she does not look so anymore. Or perhaps that when she wears white, she gleams in the sun." [That she does,] Faramir remembered fondly, as he pictured he standing on the walls of the Houses of Healing. "A bard here at Edoras first called her that. It seems that the name has stayed with her."  
  
Faramir said no more, letting the silence take over. Thinking of Eowyn made him forget his own uneasiness, and he gladly welcomed the respite from his fears. He made a vow to himself to never give her another white thing ever again, despite whatever other people might do. [The White Lady she may be, but I will make her the Green Lady of Ithilien if it is what she wishes.]  
  
A few minutes later, Eomer spoke again. "Faramir?"  
  
"You seem to be quite the inquisitive one today," Faramir said, trying to lighten both their moods.  
  
"Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Go right ahead."  
  
"Do you love Eowyn?" Eomer asked the question quietly, as though he feared what Faramir's reaction would be.  
  
"Do I love Eowyn?" he repeated to himself, unsure of how to answer. Finally he responded. "To say yes would not be enough – not even to give a speech about how I feel would be enough – and I do not think that what I say will really matter. But if such a straight answer is what you want, then yes, I do, deeply."  
  
"Faramir, I'll not lie to you. Eowyn is the most important person to me now. I want to see her happy, with the right person. It is so soon since –" Eomer stopped here, clearly too embarrassed to go forward.  
  
"I believe – at least I pray – that she feels for me as I do for her. But as for whether she loves me, you would have to ask her, for assuredly I could not give an unbiased answer." Faramir's spirits sunk. [I knew this would come up eventually. He knows I am not good enough for her.] He bowed his head.  
  
"Faramir, I barely know you. You are a good man, I know that, but I nevertheless I know nothing more than the plain facts about you. I can't help but be a little skeptical. Don't be offended, please, but I just feel as though you are a stranger, not only to me, but also to Eowyn. Not only you, but your people and customs are so different to us. She's going to live among complete strangers."  
  
Faramir gave a little sigh of frustration. [Again people say that we are too different.] He had long grown tired of this argument, from those who thought he should marry a woman of Numenor, instead of a 'foreigner'. "Your people and customs are strange to me as well, but I do not see that as an impediment," he retorted. "In Ithilien, there will be people from Gondor, Dol Amroth, Lossarnach, Lebennin – from everywhere. There will even be Elves from Mirkwood, coming with Legolas. If she wanted to bring half your court to Ithilien I would welcome them all. Eowyn will not be out of place, like a flower uprooted from its garden and taken far away. And if ever she wished to return home –" he caught himself, "– to return here, I would never stop her. I will not keep her caged." The words just spilled out of his mouth, before he thought them over in his normal fashion. He kicked himself inwardly for his lack of tact. Eomer just stared at him. Or seemed to. "I'm sorry," he said quickly.  
  
"No – there's no need," Eomer replied slowly, formulating his response with care. "I should apologize to you, I suppose. I did not mean to offend you. I will say no more." Then he indeed fell silent.  
  
Faramir kicked himself again. [Now I have insulted him. How much worse can things become?] He decided to venture an explanation, since it seemed as though he could do no worse. "No, please, listen. You must understand – I have heard so many people tell me, or at least hint, that either she is too 'different' and would be out of place, or that I should not take her from her homeland, or anything else in between. I suppose that was my outburst against it, and I should not have said it, least of all to you. It was not my place. I beg pardon."  
  
Eomer turned towards him, and Faramir could tell from his tone of voice that he was just as confused in his emotions as Faramir himself. "Why do you always apologize for everything? It was I who should not have said what I did. It was not my place. And as I said before, I will be plain with you. You should not express regret that you did the same. I prefer it when you are honest with me."  
  
Faramir was at a loss for words, and did not reply. He merely closed his eyes, rested his head on his knees, and took deep breaths. 


	7. Passing the Time in Song

Disclaimer: I must emphasize that ABSOLUTELY NOTHING is mine. You'll see why it's stressed in this chapter. You will find extra credits at the bottom of the chapter.  
  
A/N: I hope you don't mind this chapter. It really does nothing at all, except satisfy this strange desire of mine to... well... you'll see. I enjoyed it anyway. Probably my favourite chapter in the whole story.

Huggles to all my reviewers!!

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Chapter Seven: Passing the Time in Song  
  
After his conversation with Eomer, Faramir began to sink back into his old fears. Time passed slowly, and it seemed like forever since the torch had gone out. The air and light made him feel only slightly better, and after the sound of their voices, which had seemed so loud at the time, had stopped, he found the silence more oppressive than ever. He concentrated on his breathing, but it became so hard to even do that. Eventually he couldn't help but make a sound. "It is so quiet," he whispered, but still his voice seemed to echo and magnify off the walls. He wasn't quite sure whether the sound made him feel better or worse.  
  
Eomer began to hum a simple tune, and quietly tapped his boot against the floor. After the simple melody was finished, he turned to face Faramir. "Better?"  
  
He gave a short, uncertain laugh, wondering if Eomer was angry with him. But he did not sound so, and therefore Faramir replied, "Yes, thank you." Simple enough, but he hoped that it smoothed over any problems from their – discussion – from before.  
  
"Perhaps I should honour you with another tune," Eomer said, with a flourish from his shadowy hand.  
  
"I would much prefer the words to the one you just sang," Faramir said, hoping desperately for a long lay, though judging from the tune that would not be the case.  
  
"I'm not quite certain you'd appreciate the lyrics, Faramir," Eomer said with a laugh.  
  
"Please, Eomer, sing," Faramir said, curiosity stopping him from a more witty reply.  
  
"Very well," Eomer said, taking a deep breath. His baritone boomed throughout the cave:

_I have been the Wild Rider for many a long year,   
__And I've spent all my money on sweet mead and beer.   
But now I'm resolved to lay it all in store,   
And I ne'er shall be called the Wild Rider no more.   
Wild Rider, Wild Rider, Wild Rider give o'er!   
And I ne'er shall be called the Wild Rider no more!_

Faramir was laughing so hard that tears began to stream down his cheeks, and he was pleased to know that Eomer was laughing just as hard. Eventually, he caught enough of his breath back to reply. "On the contrary, Eomer, the lyrics are genius in their... simplicity." Another long round of laughter ensued.  
  
"We Rohirrim are noted for our drinking songs. It is not so much the drink as the music that often livens our revelry." Eomer continued. "Naturally, we have many ballads and lays, but none are quite as amusing."  
  
"Indeed," Faramir said, the last of his laughter dying. "Will you honour me with another one?"  
  
"I will," Eomer replied. "But only on the condition that you sing me a song first. I am interested to hear what the men of Gondor sing of."  
  
"I'm sure you do not wish to hear me sing," Faramir protested. "Most of the songs I know of are not very cheerful at all."  
  
"Well then, I'll just have to settle with a tale of bitterness, despair, and unhappiness. Sing," he commanded, in a mockingly serious tone.  
  
Faramir attempted one last try at a delay. "I really don't sing very well. Besides," he added, "I'm extremely thirsty right now, and singing some tale of woe probably won't do much to help that."  
  
Eomer paused for a moment, seemingly to plan his reply. "Faramir, if I'm not mistaken, did you not sling your flagon of water over your shoulder when we picked up food and drink?"  
  
Faramir suddenly remembered this. "Yes, I did, but I'm sure I dropped it in the collapse. I do have food in my scrip, though," he said, pulling out the bread and cheese.  
  
"I thought I remembered seeing your water on the floor. Let me see if I can find it." Eomer stretched his hands out across the floor, feeling for the leather casing. With a small triumphant cry, he dragged back the container. "There," he said, handing it to Faramir.  
  
Faramir took a sip, and then offered it to Eomer, who did the same. [Strange how I haven't even thought of food for all this time, yet now I am starving.] He split the food in half, and gave some to Eomer, who took it gladly. "We should probably not eat too much right now, and save it for later." Eomer agreed, and they put the food away, each man storing his own.  
  
Eomer took another sip of water, then passed it back to Faramir, who took one last draught, then corked it again. "Now," Eomer said with a smile on his face, "sing."  
  
Faramir had hoped he would have forgotten that. "I'm not promising anything half as enjoyable as yours, though," Faramir said. Now it was his softer tenor filling the cave:

_Mirie it is whil sumer ilast   
With fughules song.   
Och nu necheth windes blast   
And weder strong.   
Ey, ey! Whats this nicht is long,   
And it with well michel wrong,   
Soregh and murne and fast.   
_  
"I rather liked it, actually," Eomer said. "But that does not sound Gondorian. Winter is not severe there."  
  
"No," Faramir replied. "My mother taught me that. She was from Dol Amroth."  
  
"I see. That makes more sense, yes."  
  
"I don't do it justice, though," he said, in an effort to apologize for his skill. "Singing has never been my strong point."  
  
"Nonsense," Eomer snorted. "You're better than you'll ever admit to. Didn't you ever have to sing at court functions, or entertain your men with a tale? Aragorn's coronation was full of song and poetry, and every commoner was invited to sing a tune."  
  
"Yes," Faramir said, glad the conversation had switched away from himself somewhat. "In Gondor, the younger noblemen and women are often called upon by their elders to sing or play an instrument. It is a tradition at court."  
  
"Then did you ever sing?"  
  
"Not very often," Faramir said, glad that the dark hid his reddening face. That was one emotion he had yet to learn to control. "My brother was called upon more often than me. I did accompany him at times, though."  
  
"Accompany? You play an instrument?"  
  
Faramir cursed himself for letting this drop. [Doubtless Eomer will not forget this.] "Four, actually."  
  
"Four?" Eomer repeated incredulously. "What do you play?"  
  
"Well, I started playing recorder, but I tired of that, so I switched to pipe instead. One of my tutors taught me to play the hammer dulcimer, and I played that until I joined the army, but I couldn't take that with me, and, as you say, the men like to hear a tale. So I taught myself to play the gittern, and that is what I play mostly now, though I still go back to the dulcimer at times."  
  
"I must say, Faramir, that I am impressed. You must play for me some time."  
  
Faramir agreed, in the hopes that Eomer would forget his promise. "Anyway, you promised me that you would sing your other song."  
  
"Oh yes, so I did," Eomer said. "Though I'm not so sure you'll like this one as much as the previous one." Eomer's voice once more echoed off the walls:

_In Gondor there is no beer;   
That's why we drink it here.   
And when we're gone from here,   
Our friends will be drinking all our beer!_  
  
Again Faramir was hysterically laughing, with Eomer doing the same. "I can assure you," he finally said, "that there is indeed beer in Gondor. I think many Rohirrim seem to believe this – misconception." Eomer laughed at the word.  
  
"And you, of all people, would be able to tell me for certain that there is indeed beer in Gondor?" Eomer teased.  
  
"I can assure you, there is," Faramir repeated, with a knowing voice, which caused more peals of laughter. "Though I must say, I do not partake of it as often as others," he said, with a sparkle in his eye.  
  
It took Eomer a few moments to realize the full meaning of his words. When he finally did, Faramir was laughing at him again. "It's probably because you Gondorians sing so many depressing tunes that you yourselves are too busy wiping tears from your eyes to fully enjoy the ale," he snorted back. "Whereas I on the other hand, I can fully appreciate the..." Faramir's laughter stopped him from saying any more, and he aimed a lighthearted punch at Faramir's shoulder.  
  
"If we depress you so much, then perhaps you should know that there are indeed cheerful Gondorian songs."  
  
"So you're not all as stiff-necked as I thought!" Eomer laughed. "Come, Faramir, sing a cheerful song."  
  
Faramir, by this point extremely giddy, whether from genuine happiness or lack of food, decided on his tune, and began to sing:

_Wantonness for ever mair,   
Wantonness has been my ruin;   
Yet for all my dool and care,   
It's wantonness for ever.  
  
I hae lo'ed the Black, the Brown,   
I hae lo'ed the Fair, the Gowden.   
All the colours in the town,   
I hae won their wanton favour._  
  
Eomer was practically rolling on the floor in his hysterics. Faramir nearly found himself doing the same, and for a long time they merely sat and laughed.  
  
"If I didn't already know you for the man you are, I might take that seriously!"  
  
"I certainly hope you don't."  
  
Eomer laughed again. "Still, you didn't sing a particularly cheerful song, no matter how entertaining it may have been."  
  
"I suppose not, but still..." Faramir smiled broadly. "I rather enjoyed it."  
  
"Well, you still owe me a cheerful song. Don't think I'll forget it."  
  
"Perhaps, Eomer, your next selection will be your own song of misery. Surely the Rohirrim have gloomy songs of their own."  
  
"Aye, we do. I will sing you one, if you promise your next selection to be a merry one."  
  
"Agreed," Faramir said eagerly, anxious to hear Eomer sing a more serious tune. [Now I may hear the long lay I originally sought.] But he was uncertain now as to whether he would prefer to hear one, or to continue sharing a short selection each. Thinking back, he couldn't quite remember the last time he enjoyed singing so much.  
  
Eomer began his song:

_Death hath deprived me of my dearest friend;  
My dearest friend is dead and laid in grave. In grave he rests until the world shall end.  
The world shall end, as end all things must have.   
All things must have an end that Nature wrought;   
That Nature wrought must unto dust be brought._

"You certainly were not lying. That song is indeed depressing," Faramir said, reminded suddenly of his brother.  
  
"Yet still, I sense hope for the future in it," Eomer replied. "I sense a hope for reunion." Silence came over them for a moment, each man lost in his own thoughts. "Come, Faramir, your song now. Raise my spirits."  
  
"Must it be happy? I really don't know any..." At Eomer's skeptical look, Faramir thought of a substitute. "I know one that will probably amuse you, if nothing else."  
  
"Well – it'll have to do," Eomer said, as he exaggerated a sigh.  
  
Faramir gave a quick laugh before beginning.

_My curse upon your venom'd stang,  
That shoots my tortur'd gooms alang,  
An' thro' my lug gies monie a twang  
Wh' gnawing vengeance,  
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,  
Like racking engines!_   
  
"What...?" Eomer just looked at Faramir, completely confused.  
  
"Shall I continue?" Faramir said, practically in hysterics.

_A' down my beard the slavers trickle,  
I throw the wee stools o'er the mickle,  
While round the fire the giglets keckle  
To see me loup,  
An' raving mad, I wish a heckle  
Were i' their doup! _  
  
"What is the name of that song?" Eomer asked, between his peals of laughter.  
  
"Address to the Toothache," Faramir replied. "And that was only a small part of the song – it goes on for much longer. Shall I continue?"  
  
"No, Faramir, that's quite all right." Faramir merely chuckled, and began belting out the next verse. "No!" Eomer moaned, in mock agony, though both were half-hysterical in laughter.  
  
Both were silenced, however, when a third voice joined the fray.  
  
------------------

"Wild Rider" is actually a sea chantey, "Wild Rover". No idea who wrote it – I just changed around a few of the words.  
  
"Mirie It Is" – an anonymous song from the 13th century, possibly Scottish in origin. It's about the oncoming of winter.  
  
"In Gondor There Is No Beer" – another of 'Arahiril's messed-up versions of not-so-well-known songs'. It's based on "In Heaven There Is No Beer". No clue who wrote it again – I heard it off the polka station with my grandparents, and it has since become a family classic. Teehee.  
  
"Wantonness" – yes, I have an author for this one: the great Scottish poet Robert Burns.  
  
"Death Hath Deprived Me" – an English madrigal by Thomas Weelkes.  
  
"Address to the Toothache" – a rather entertaining Robert Burns song, wouldn't you agree?

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Faramir's instruments: I thought that the Middle-Earthians would most likely play instruments that would be essentially medieval, since many other aspects of their culture are rather similar to the culture of Europe in the Middle Ages.  
  
Recorder – something rather like a flute.  
  
Pipe – a more advanced recorder, basically.  
  
Hammer Dulcimer – this really awesome horizontal harp-like thing that you play with hammers, and it makes a really awesome hollow harp-like sound.  
  
Gittern – a smaller version of the lute, which is rather similar to a guitar.   
  
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I think that's about it.


	8. Rescue

Hey!! Getting close to being done!! All praise Thor. There's only one more REALLY short chapter left. Short as in a three hundred words, or thereabouts.

Glad that everyone seemed to like the songs. I'm a medieval music nut; it was like a "dream come true", to be able to use them and the instruments.  
  
Disclaimer: Faramir the Marvelous is not mine, etc.

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Chapter Eight: Rescue  
  
"Eomer King! Is that you, my lord?" A faint voice from behind quickly hushed Eomer and Faramir. They looked at each other, before simultaneously turning around and calling for help.  
  
"Faramir!" Beregond's voice called out over the others, and Faramir's heart raced, as he called back.  
  
"Beregond! Here! We're behind the wall!" Pausing to listen, Faramir heard the sound of footprints, barely audible, and a slight scraping sound from the behind the boulders which had trapped them.  
  
Beregond's voice called out again. "Faramir? Are you there?" Something suddenly blocked the small chinks of light that Eomer had discovered, and Faramir quickly knelt to where they had been.  
  
"Beregond, you're standing right in front of our light," he said, and the man jumped, startled to hear Faramir's voice right behind him. He couldn't help but chuckle, as wild joy surged through him.  
  
"I beg your pardon, my lord," Beregond laughed back. "I hope I am not disturbing you and Lord Eomer."  
  
"I think I will overlook it this time," he replied, grinning madly.  
  
"Hold on a minute longer, we'll have you out of here in no time."  
  
Eomer cut in. "A minute is not 'no time'." A moment of silence passed, then Beregond understood, and he laughed with the two prisoners.  
  
"Let me change that to 'as quickly as I can manage', sir. I'll be right back." The obstruction shifted, and light again entered the small cavern. Beregond called to unseen people behind him, and the sound of more footsteps greeted their ears.  
  
"Eomer King?" A voice that Faramir did not recognize spoke out, but Eomer replied eagerly.  
  
"Edric!" Moving aside, Faramir let Eomer kneel beside the cracks in the wall. "What took you so long?"  
  
"We had no idea where you were. We've been searching nearly all the caves for you, Eomer. Next time you have to tell someone where you are going."  
  
Properly admonished, Eomer put on his best 'yes-I-know-but-I-will-never- listen' face, even though the man on the other side couldn't see it. "I promise I won't do it again."  
  
A snort came through from the other side. "Of course you won't, my lord," the man retorted sarcastically, apparently accustomed to this.  
  
Faramir couldn't help but chuckle, which caused Eomer to glare back at him. "Well, you didn't tell anyone either," he said, annoyance and embarrassment mixed across his features.  
  
Ignoring Eomer's expression, Faramir snickered loudly. "How could I have? I've never even been here before."  
  
Eomer's face twisted into a smile, and then a full-blown laugh. Faramir thought he could hear some chuckles from the other side of the wall as well. Turning back to the wall in mock indignance, Eomer spoke loudly. "Can you just get us out of here, please?" He turned apologetically to his companion. "Not that I didn't enjoy your company, Lord Steward," he said, "but I would dearly love some fresh air and a decent meal."  
  
"I agree, Eomer King," Faramir replied in as lofty a voice as he could manage. "Though my introduction into Rohirric culture was quite fascinating, I believe that I too would appreciate these things." Eomer sniffed haughtily as well, but the two of them just started laughing again. "It must be the lack of air," Faramir said, trying to explain his slightly out-of-character behavior.  
  
"Faramir?" Beregond's voice came through from the other side of the wall. "This may take a while. We have to find some men who have skill in masonry such as this."  
  
Eomer sighed, his excitement dying slightly at the prospect of spending more time trapped in the gloom. Turning his mind to the problem, Faramir decided to suggest something. "What about that man from before, the one who mistook us for servants?" He turned to Eomer. "You yourself said that he was one of the best in his craft. Perhaps he could be of some help."  
  
After a few shuffles were heard from behind the obstruction, Beregond's voice answered Faramir's question. "I've sent someone to go looking for him. It shouldn't take that long."  
  
Silence overcame the group, separated by rock, such that Faramir felt the need to feel less empty, and so he asked a question which he hoped would have a long answer. "So – what exactly happened?"  
  
The man whom Eomer had called Edric answered him. "Part of the outer wall collapsed, apparently causing tremors enough to disturb the rock underground here."  
  
Eomer looked at Faramir. "So your guess was right, then, Faramir."  
  
Edric's voice continued his story. "After it happened, there were a number of men missing, so that we didn't even notice you were gone. 'Twas the Lady Eowyn who finally inquired after Lord Faramir, and then we immediately began searching for you."  
  
Faramir's heart stirred within his chest, knowing that Eowyn had been worried for him. "Was anyone killed?"  
  
"No, thankfully. A few injuries, but nothing serious." Edric then bade them to tell their story, but Faramir was content to let Eomer do that, and merely sit contentedly, pleased that everything had turned out so well.  
  
Eomer, however, was interrupted when his sister's voice echoed through the caves, higher-pitched than normal in concern. "Faramir? Eomer?"  
  
Eomer called out to respond. "Good afternoon, Eowyn," he laughed. "I would give you leave to enter, but I'm afraid that I'm unable to do so." Hearing her approach, Faramir drew closer to the wall, trying to feel the comfort of her presence.  
  
"Eomer! Don't you do that to me again!" she scolded, though clearly relieved, as Faramir listened to her kneel next to the small cracks in the solid wall. "Is Faramir there?" she asked more softly, fear lacing into her normally confident voice.  
  
"Yes, I am," Faramir said, a wide grin on his face, "though I would dearly love not to be."  
  
"I know, I'm so sorry for making you come..."  
  
Faramir quickly interrupted her. "You didn't make me come at all. And since everyone's fine, there's no need to be sorry at all." He could almost sense her nodding her head in acceptance, knowing he was right.  
  
"I brought the stonemason," she said evenly, as though she was suddenly aware that they had an audience.  
  
"My Lords?" the man's tentative voice asked quietly. "I'm going to try to remove the rocks. Back away from the wall, if you would. I might as well warn you, this may take a rather long time."  
  
"Take as much time as you need," Eomer replied breezily. "We're not going anywhere."  
  
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---  
  
It seemed to be a very long time until enough boulders were finally removed, and the collapse finally cleared enough to have the two trapped men squeeze through. Apparently, the stonemason did not want to remove too much stone and risk having another collapse, and so Edric called to them that they would have to climb through the small hole that had been made.  
  
Eomer looked over at Faramir. "After you," he said, with a flourish of his hand.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Quite. I'll be right behind you anyway." Eomer grinned. "Besides, if anything should go wrong, you'll be the one in trouble anyway."  
  
"Thank you so much," he replied over his shoulder, as he prepared to climb out of their little prison. Taking a deep breath, he poked his head and shoulders through the hole, and wriggled his arms free, trying to ignore the thousand small scratches that were being formed as his body twisted and turned. Finally, he got enough of his torso free that he could put himself completely through, and toppled onto the floor in a graceless heap, as his feet were still partially in the opening. No sooner had he righted himself than Eowyn had wrapped her arms around him and was clutching onto him tightly. He smiled, and wrapped his arms around her just as tightly. The world seemed to stand still for a moment to him, and the thought comforted him greatly.  
  
Eomer's voice, from right behind him, broke the embrace. "I see now why you were in such a rush to get us out of there."  
  
Eowyn grinned up at Faramir, then embraced her brother just as tightly. Beregond, in the meantime, approached Faramir, and, grinning madly, clapped him on the back. "Glad to see you are well, Faramir."  
  
"Thank you," he replied warmly. "Yes, I am quite well."


	9. Mirth and Celebration

Disclaimer: Nothing in this chapter is mine.

It's done!! It's over!! The fic is DONE!! COMPLETED!! celebrates madly

Sorry for not posting this earlier. :)

Oh yes. I am giddy. Couldn't you tell?

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Chapter Nine: Mirth and Celebration

Faramir sat beside Eowyn at the head table, thinking quietly to himself, as the men around him laughed merrily. Eomer had ordered a feast not only to celebrate their safe return, but also to commemorate the completion of restoration work in the Westfold. As he had commented at the time, 'We are long overdue.' Looking around, Faramir could definitely agree with him. As he cast his mind back, he couldn't think of a feast he had enjoyed half as much in a long time. [Perhaps,] he thought to himself, as he glanced over his right shoulder at Eowyn, [perhaps the company is better than normal.]

Eomer's hearty laugh broke through his thoughts, as it so often did. He smiled, as Eomer made some joke about him and Eowyn in a good-natured way, then looked with foreboding at what Eomer held in his hands.

"Well, Faramir, what do you say to honouring us with a song or two? You did promise to play for me sometime." Eomer waved a gittern at him with a knowing grin.

Flustered, Faramir tried to think of a way out of it. "I'd rather wait…"

"Please, Faramir? I never knew you could play an instrument." One look at Eowyn, and he knew he couldn't refuse her.

With a sigh, he pushed his chair back, away from the table, and took the gittern into his own hands. Immediately, the occupants of the Hall turned to cheer him on, and as he stood up, Eomer directed him to a small stool in the middle of the Hall. "But there's so many people…" he said, staring at the crowd of men, women, and children, who were all facing him, waiting for him to begin.

"Oh, don't mind them. You're among friends," Eomer encouraged him gently. Then he raised his voice loudly. "The Lord Faramir will honour us with a Gondorian song, if you will have him." A simultaneous 'aye' rose from the crowd, followed by a burst of applause, as he took his place on the stool. From the corner of his eye he saw Eowyn approach, gleaming brightly in the torchlight and dressed in green, and he knew what he would sing.

Sae flaxen were her ringlets,  
Her eyebrows of a darker hue,  
Bewitchingly o'er-arching  
Twa laughing een o' bonie blue.  
Her smiling, sae wyling,  
Wad make a wretch forget his woe!  
What pleasure, what treasure,  
Unto those rosy lips to grow!  
Such was my Chloris' bonie face,  
When first that bonie face I saw.  
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm -  
She says she lo'es me best of a'!

Let others love the city,  
And gaudy show at sunny noon!  
Gie me the lonely valley,  
The dewy eve, and rising moon,  
Fair beaming, and streaming  
Her silver light the boughs amang,  
While falling, recalling,  
The amorous thrush concludes his sang!  
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove   
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,  
And hear my vows o' truth and love,  
And say thou lo'es me best of a'?

He glanced back at Eowyn, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of happiness. And he knew what her answer would be.

Well? What think ye? I have NOOOO clue what I'm doing next, but hey! I'm DONE!! celebrates

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BTW – the song is verses 1 and 3 of "Sae Flaxen Were Her Ringlets" by Robert Burns. Sappiness!!

Hope you liked it!! Thanks to all my reviewers, who are all awesome!!


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